I’d walked on eggshells all day yesterday, expecting Joni to come at me again, but she didn’t. Maybe it was because she was out of the office most of the day for an in-service. I was trying hard not to dread today because of her. My day started earlier than usual.
Zara called last night to let me know Iceman would do the session this morning before I went to work. She gave me the time and the address to the Warriors’ compound, as she called it. She promised she’d hang out until I arrived. She wanted to introduce us. That meant I dragged myself out of bed an hour earlier. I was up by six most days, so I was awake at five. The girls were still getting ready for school when I left.
The directions took me outside of town. Zara claimed I’d know I had the right place when I saw it. I wondered what she meant. I found out when my GPS took me straight to the gate of a property enclosed in tall, concrete block walls with razor-wire running along the top. Unease slithered into my stomach, but I scolded myself. No way would Zara allow me to go somewhere I’d get harmed. She lived here with her child.
There was one of those speaker boxes you could talk into. Before I could use it, a man’s voice came across it, “May I help you?”
“Ah, yes, my name is Meadow Lefevre, I’m here to see Iceman—.”
“You’re the new physical therapist. Let me get the gate. Just hang on a minute,” he said immediately.
The next thing I knew, the heavy gate was opening. A young Hispanic guy about my age—late twenties—came sauntering to my window. I rolled it down. He smiled at me.
“Come on in. Go to the large building on your right and park out front. I’ll let Zara know you’re here. She’ll meet you at the front door.”
“Thank you so much…”
“It’s Diego, and you’re welcome. If you need something, you can ask me or anyone else you see. I promise. We don’t bite.” He grinned.
I smiled back and replied, “But I might.” I chuckled at the surprised look my reply caused, and then he was laughing as I drove off.
I easily found the building he referred to. It wasn’t what I expected. It looked more like a huge fancy house than a clubhouse. There were buildings that all looked alike, which I would say were apartments or townhomes if I saw them in town. Scattered all over were several houses. Each one was unique. I found an open spot, like Diego said, and parked. Grabbing my bag, I got out and went to the big house’s door. I waited less than a minute before it opened. Zara stood there smiling at me. She reached out and grabbed my arm.
“Get in here. No need to stand outside.” As I followed her inside, I couldn’t help myself. I had to stare at my surroundings. Instead of being in a standard living room, it was a huge area, where I assumed several rooms had been opened up to make one big one. There was a bar and tons of seating, some at multiple tables, pool tables, and more.
She laughed. “I know, it’s kinda overwhelming when you first see it. I know it was when I did. And I know you don’t have time to tour everything, but I promise I’ll do it for you later. Right now, we need to get to the gym before he runs for it.”
I followed her through twists and turns until she took me into a basement. I had to say, this was no rinky-dink home gym. It was huge and set up with almost every major workout machine you could want, plus free weights, weight benches, and even a boxing ring. My mouth was still hanging open when she took me across the room, and I saw my patient for the first time.
When he faced me, I felt like my jaw fell to the floor. Even his slight scowl didn’t put me off. Standing there was a delicious man. In my book, he was a ten based on physique and looks. He was dressed in a pair of thin gray drawstring pants. Every man should own a pair because they molded all the right things. He was blond like me, but his hair was a different shade. His was more sandy compared to my creamy, bronzy blond. His had a slight wave to it, and while not long, it curled at the top of his neck and flopped over his forehead on the left. He was tanned and had the ever-faintest facial scruff. His dark green eyes stood out.
I saw what Zara meant about him being very fit before the shooting. He was ripped with arms that showed off his veins and muscles. As if that wasn’t enough, add that he was probably a couple of inches over six feet tall and had tattoos to boot. He was perfection. I was snapped out of contemplating him by Zara saying my name. I hurried to present my hand, and I smiled, hoping he hadn’t seen me gaping at him like a moron.
“Meadow, this is Iceman, your patient. Iceman, this is Meadow, the best PT I know. She’ll have you whipped back into shape in no time if you listen to her.” I heard the warning in her tone.
“It’s nice to meet you, Iceman,” I said as I waited for him to shake my hand.
He finally gripped mine, almost as if he were hesitant. He had a strong grip, although he didn’t try to crush my hand. I liked to show that I wasn’t a wispy flower, so I gripped his tightly and shook. I caught the flash of surprise on his face, and then it was gone.
“Who in the hell names their kid Meadow?” was the first thing out of his mouth.
“Who the hell runs around with the road name Iceman?” I automatically snapped back. I recalled Zara saying not to let him intimidate me. The truth was, very few could, but he might.
Zara burst out laughing. “She’s not going to allow you to get away with crap, Iceman. I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Ice, you need to listen to her and do what she says. She’s the best. Meadow, call me if you have problems or need me for other reasons. I’ve got to get back to the house and get Alex his breakfast. I’ll talk to you both later,” she said breezily before she hurried from the gym.
That left us staring at each other. Not wanting it to get awkward, I slapped my hands together. “Okay, before we get started, I understand you had three treatments with another PT, and those didn’t go well. I like asking all my patients their goals before we start anything.”
“I want to be able to go back to work as soon as possible and be free to do my routine, not this worthless shit. If you’re going to make me do the treadmill and useless wall push-ups, you can leave, too. It means you’re the same as the other one,” he grumbled.
“It depends on what wall push-ups and other exercises I give you and the type of treadmill routine that makes it different. I can make you sweat just from the run and a few wall exercises.” I tossed out the challenge automatically. I loved making people eat their words, particularly concerning my work.
He gave me a disbelieving roll of his eyes. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do what you say if you can make me sweat and even be a bit out of breath by the end. However, if you can’t, you’ll tell Zara I’m fine with doing this rehab on my own.”
I knew that he would benefit from even a few treatments with me, but if he had his mind set against it, then it was doomed to fail, which was why I did what I did next.
“Okay, I’ll take that deal, but only if you adhere and do everything I tell you without complaining, refusing to do it, or not putting your one hundred percent into it.”
“Deal,” he said immediately as he held out his hand. We shook on it.
“I know we’re here to work on your upper body, so why the treadmill? It’s to get your entire body synched back up. By expanding your lungs, your chest expands. That helps to stretch the scar tissue formed by the surgeries and the gunshot wound. I want you to start at a jog and then increase the speed, even if it’s only by the smallest notch every minute until you hit twenty minutes. Then we’ll move to the exercises,” I ordered.
He hopped onto it and set the speed. I watched to be sure he wasn’t jumping into it too fast. Even though it was higher than most, it was evident he wasn’t testing himself. I kept reminding him when to increase, and part way through, I told him to jump it up exponentially more. I was assessing his tolerance. By the time he was done, he was barely pink in the face and not winded at all. He was in wonderful respiratory shape.
“Now, I need to do some stretches and hands-on palpating and manipulation so I can judge what I want you to do and the number of reps.”
“You got it.”
I tingled, touching his bare skin. I had to concentrate, so I didn’t let him see how he affected me. I’d never had a male patient affect me. Ever. His musculature and strength were incredible, even with the decrease on his left side. It wouldn’t take a lot to get him back in shape. The big thing for him was breaking down the developed scar tissue and keeping it from reforming again.
As soon as I knew where he stood, I got him started on the stretches and weight-bearing exercises with lighter weights or body resistance. Again, he did a great job. I was beginning to fear we’d have only one session and done. However, he did begin to fight the pain and slight tremors caused by me increasing the rep count or weight. By the time fifty minutes were up, he was lightly sweating even if he wasn’t out of breath.
“Sit down and drink some water while I work the tissue manually,” I instructed. I gave him a massage while he sat on the weight bench and drank water. He flinched a few times and moaned. The moans I wasn’t always sure were ones of pain. When the hour was over, I nodded my head.
“You did a great job. Make sure to ice your chest and shoulder on that side at least twice a day for fifteen to twenty minutes. I suggest you do this routine every other day for this week. I’d ideally like to come back to do it on Friday, which leaves you to do it on Sunday. I know you want to do it every day and go harder and add more weight, but if you do, you may set yourself back. Next week, does Monday, Wednesday, and Friday work for you? Or would other days work better? What about time? Was this the best time? Or after five when I get done at the office? I’d offer lunchtime, but there’s no way I can get here, do the hour, and then get back. Unless you’re willing to come to me.”
I waited for him to tell me he wouldn’t do it anymore with me, but he surprised me when he didn’t. He did think over what I asked before answering.
“Those three days a week work for me. Yes, I’ll see you on Friday, and I’ll stick to the workout that we did today on Sunday. As for time, I don’t want to come to the office. I’ll take whichever works best for you. I know you’re doing me a favor.”
“I think we should try early morning again and then decide. So if it’s okay with you, I’ll see you on Friday at the same time. Now, go ice it,” I ordered.
He rolled his eyes and escorted me upstairs. I wanted to see the rest of the place but had to get to work. I told him goodbye, then got in my car and left. The whole drive to the office, I kept thinking about him even though I tried hard not to. This may be the one time I’ll push a patient to take over his or her care as fast as possible. Iceman might be ice cold, but he made my whole body heat up.